


Give me a minute or an hour

by CuriousThimble



Series: Fictober 2020 [17]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Breaking up is hard to do, F/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:02:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27166972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CuriousThimble/pseuds/CuriousThimble
Summary: After a break-up, Alistair decides to tell Hera that he still loves her.
Relationships: Alistair/Female Warden (Dragon Age)
Series: Fictober 2020 [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948270
Kudos: 3





	Give me a minute or an hour

**Author's Note:**

> I went out of town and wasn't able to post, so I'll be posting new ficlets until Fictober is up to date. Enjoy!

Alistair takes a deep breath and knocks on the door to Hera’s room. He’d been thinking of this for days and had finally decided to just do it before he lost his nerve. Swallowing nervously, he wishes he hadn’t let Zevran talk him into some liquid courage.

“Come in.”

Squaring his shoulders, he puts a hand on the latch, sending up one last prayer to the Maker for help. At his hesitation, the door pulls away from his hand, swinging open soundlessly. Hera sits at a small table, feather quill in hand, wearing a black lace dressing robe. Her free hand is in the air, holding the door with unseen magic.

“Alistair,” she says with a smile. “Come in. I have wine if you’d like it?”

Swallowing past the lump in his throat, he takes the empty seat across from her. “Um, no thank you.”

She tilts her head at him, her hair cascading over her shoulder and looking so unbelievably lovely that he can’t seem to breathe correctly. “Very well,” she says, closing the journal before her and placing her quill in the inkpot. “What can I do for you?”

_ Love me again. _

He almost says the words, but bites his tongue with a curse instead. Her curiosity turns to confusion and she puts a hand on his.

“Alistair, what’s wrong? Do you need something?”

He nods. “Just...give me a minute,” he says as his prepared speech falls apart in his mind.  _ Or an hour.  _

“All right,” she says, leaning back in her chair and folding her hands in her lap. “Take your time.”

Rubbing his hands on his trousers— why  _ are _ his palms sweating, anyway?— he breathes deeply and gathers his courage. “When you said you’d missed… this,” he begins, looking up at her again, “did you mean  _ us _ ? Because I— um, I did.”

Hera goes completely still, like she’d quit breathing. 


End file.
